


Misery Loves Company

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: First Time, Futurefic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-02
Updated: 2007-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-01 08:15:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/354269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark was sure that there were more unlikely people to find knocking at the door to his apartment at ten o'clock on a Friday evening, but he couldn't actually think of any.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Misery Loves Company

## Misery Loves Company

by averaird

[]()

* * *

Clark was sure that there were more unlikely people to find knocking at the door to his apartment at ten o'clock on a Friday evening. He couldn't actually think of one, but that could be the shock. 

Clark should have slammed the door in Lex's face as soon as he realised who he was. He should have slammed the door, climbed out of a window, and flown to the Fortress and stayed there for a few days to recuperate. Clearly, he was overtired and hallucinating. It was the only rational explanation. 

He screwed his eyes closed and rubbed them with his knuckles. When he opened them again, Lex was still there, leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, as if visiting Clark at his home was something that he did every day. 

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" Lex asked in a tone that did not expect refusal. 

"No," Clark said slowly, "I don't think that I will." 

Lex smiled crookedly. "I'm not armed." 

He extended both arms towards Clark, fingers spread wide, presumably so that Clark could see that he wasn't wearing his kryptonite ring. The movement made him sway alarmingly then stagger forward a couple of steps. Clark grabbed hold of Lex reflexively, arms wrapping around the other man's waist to keep him upright. 

"Thank you, Clark," Lex said, clutching at the front of Clark's shirt as he fought to regain his balance. 

Clark winced and turned his head to one side. Lex's breath made his eyes water. 

"You're drunk," he said accusingly, dropping his hands from Lex's waist so that he could pry Lex's fingers from his shirt. 

"I am not." Lex sounded offended and he tried to draw himself up haughtily. He listed slightly to one side, which lessened the effect somewhat. "I also appear to be inside your apartment, which means that I'm now your guest and you have to offer me your hospitality." 

Lex walked unsteadily, but with obvious purpose, past Clark and towards the living room. 

"No, I don't," Clark said, grabbing Lex around the waist again and half-carrying, half-dragging him back towards the door. "You're going to go home and sleep this off. How did you even get here? I hope you didn't drive." 

Lex made an unintelligible sound of protest, muffled because he appeared to be trying to chew his way through Clark's arm. 

"Lex, are you biting me?" 

"No," Lex said indignantly, spitting out Clark's sleeve. He frowned and rubbed at his teeth. "You've got really hard arms, Clark. I think I've chipped a tooth." 

Clark almost felt insulted. Lex had pulled some bizarre stunts over the years with the intention of hurting, killing, or even just humiliating Clark, but this was ridiculous. Clark had never seen Lex drunk once in all the years that he'd known the other man, even when he'd drunk enough liquor to kill a normal man. Exactly how stupid did Lex think Clark was? 

"Out you go," Clark said as he swung Lex into the corridor outside the apartment. 

Clark shifted his grip on Lex with the intention of slinging him over his shoulder and taking him... somewhere. He supposed that he should probably drive Lex home, as he couldn't in good conscience allow the other man get behind a wheel. 

He still wasn't convinced that Lex was actually drunk but there was clearly something wrong with him. He could just dump Lex on the curb outside LexCorp. Someone was bound to notice him and take him inside at some point. 

Clark heard a horribly familiar click and then the cold butt of a gun was pressed just behind his left ear. 

"Good evening, Mr. Kent," said an equally familiar voice. 

"Mercy." Clark closed his eyes. He should have guessed that Lex wouldn't have come without backup. 

"Mercy," Lex echoed brightly, squirming in Clark's grip. 

"I'm going to turn around slowly and hand Lex to you," Clark said as levelly as he could, "and then we can go all home and no one gets hurt, okay?" 

"No can do, Mr. Kent." Mercy pushed the gun a little more forcibly against Clark's skull. "The boss wants to talk to you." 

Clark could take the chance that Mercy had no kryptonite bullets in her gun. He could run and take the chance that Mercy's reflexes weren't as fast as he feared them to be. 

A small sliver of suspicion made Clark scan the floor with his x-ray vision. Just as he feared, Hope was prowling around on the floor below. Mrs. Gaborski, Clark's neighbour, was following a couple of paces behind her, chattering about her bunions. Hope looked about ready to snap. 

Clark sighed. Maybe Mercy didn't have kryptonite bullets in her gun and maybe he could be fast enough, but Hope's presence just made the risk too great. What could Lex really do to him anyway whilst he was in this state and completely unarmed? 

"OK, you win," Clark said grudgingly, "but any funny business and he's straight back out again." 

"Thank you, Mr. Kent," Mercy said and the gun slipped away. 

Clark glanced over his shoulder as he steered Lex back inside the apartment. Mercy bared her teeth at him in something approximating a smile. 

Clark shivered and slammed the door behind him. 

* * *

"Okay, Lex, what's this about?" Clark asked as he deposited Lex onto the couch. 

Lex sank down as if boneless, arms and legs splayed out carelessly. "I only want to talk to you, Clark," he said, pouting. "Why are you so suspicious of that?" 

There were so many things that Clark could say to that, but most of them involved admitting that he was Superman. 

"It's hardly as if we get together and chat on a regular basis, Lex. When was the last time we even spoke?" 

Clark sat down on the far end of the couch, careful that not even a single crease in his pants brushed up against Lex's outstretched legs. For the first time since he'd moved into the apartment, Clark wished that he'd taken his mom up on the offer of that hideous scratchy armchair from the farm. Clearly, there were situations where one couch was totally inadequate furnishing as far as a living room was concerned. 

Lex's brow furrowed and the tip of his tongue poked out from between his lips for a second. "I think that it was last Tuesday." The tongue reappeared momentarily. "Yes, definitely last Tuesday." 

That didn't sound quite right to Clark. As far as he could remember, and his memory was particularly accurate where Lex was concerned, the last time he had spoken to Lex had been three weeks ago. It had been at a LexCorp press conference and the entire conversation had consisted of Clark asking a very pertinent and well-researched question and Lex replying, 'Good question,' and then going on to talk about something completely unrelated for a full ten minutes. 

Clark hadn't seen Lex at all that particular Tuesday, but Superman had. Lex had been in the midst of building another of his killer robot armies in one of the few secret labs that Clark hadn't already destroyed. Clark had burst through a wall, smashed up the lab, set fire to Lex's research notes, then pinned Lex against a wall and given him a very serious lecture about appropriate uses of power. 

Clark groaned, banging his head against the back of the couch gently. Why did he ever think that he was fooling Lex? It seemed stupidly overconfident now. 

"You were very rude, Clark. I'm getting fed up of you destroying all my things." Lex jabbed his finger at Clark. His aim was a little off and he ended up poking the cushion behind Clark's head instead. "But that's not what I'm here to talk to you about." 

"It's not?" Clark asked, shifting away from Lex's finger. Lex never usually passed up the opportunity to berate Clark, or rather Superman, about what Lex saw as his penchant for unprovoked violence towards LexCorp property. "What do you want to talk to me about then?" 

Lex's eyes went slightly glazed-looking and his finger stopped its poking and came to rest on Clark's shoulder. Clark shrugged it off, but it soon returned along with the rest of Lex's fingers, which curled around the top of Clark's arm. 

"You've no idea how difficult it is for me" - Lex's hand drifted across Clark's chest, feather-light - "dealing with you as Superman." 

Clark frowned at Lex, grabbing his wandering hand with the intention of pushing it away. "If you behaved yourself then perhaps it wouldn't be so difficult." 

Lex resisted Clark's attempt to move him, interlacing their fingers together so tightly that Clark worried that he would break the other man's hand if he tried to untangle them. 

"That's not what I meant." 

Clark studied Lex's face for some sign of what the other man was thinking. Lex's expression was far softer than Clark had seen in many years, but that was just as likely to be the alcohol as any sort of kinder feeling towards Clark. This was perhaps all some nefarious plot of the kind that Lex specialised in concocting. Clark couldn't even begin to guess what form a possible plot might take, but then his inability to second-guess Lex had been at the root of many of their problems. 

"Back when we were friends, I thought it was one of the hardest things I'd ever had to do, keeping my hands off you" - Lex's grip tightened fractionally - "but that was before I saw you in spandex. You should hear what Mercy says about your ass." 

Clark thought he would rather die before he heard Mercy's views on his ass. He would have thought that Lex would rather die than admit to finding Clark attractive, spandex or no. However, Lex was admitting it and he was leaning into Clark, his eyes narrowed to slits. 

Before Clark could even begin to think what he should say or do, Lex lunged for him. Clark reared back instinctively and Lex's lips grazed the corner of Clark's mouth, slipping across his cheek as Lex fell against him. 

Clark disentangled their hands as he scrabbled against the weight of Lex's body. "God, Lex. How much have you had to drink?" 

Lex fell onto his side as Clark leapt up from the couch, throwing one arm over his eyes. "What day is it?" he asked. 

"Friday," Clark said, casting an eye around for somewhere safer to sit. 

He finally settled on sitting on the floor, back resting against the couch by Lex's feet. He resolved to go back to Smallville that weekend to pick up the scratchy armchair from the farm just in case any of his other enemies decided drop by in the future to try to molest him. 

"I lost count on Thursday morning," Lex said airily. 

"Why?" 

"I can't remember now. Which I think was the whole point of the exercise." 

They both lapsed into silence for a while, which was broken only by the soft sounds of Lex's clothes brushing against the couch as he slowly shifted his weight. Intellectually, Clark knew that he should probably hand Lex over to his bodyguards as his behaviour could definitely be construed as 'funny business', but he couldn't quite bring himself to do so. 

It had been a long time - too long - since he and Lex had been in this close proximity and hadn't tried to kill one another. In a strange way, it almost felt comfortable, almost like the old days before he and Lex had become enemies. Although there had admittedly been less lunging in the old days. 

"Is this what you wanted, Clark?" Lex asked, his voice breaking slightly as he spoke Clark's name. 

"You know it's not, Lex," Clark said, glancing over towards the other man. 

Lex's arm fell away from his face, trailing along the floor, and he met Clark's gaze steadily. His eyes were red and watery as if he was on the brink of tears. 

Several years of dealing with Lois when she was drunk had taught Clark much about coping with alcohol-induced mood swings. One minute Lois would be dancing wildly, gyrating up against any man - willing or unwilling - who ventured close enough, the next she'd be slumped over the bar crying about how she had fat hair or something. 

Clark had learnt that the best thing to do in such situations was to make sympathetic noises and rub her back until she either felt better or her favourite song was played, whereupon she would fling herself onto the dance floor again. 

Clark didn't want to chance that approach with Lex. Sympathy and rubbing would probably only lead to Lex getting the wrong idea and further lunging - Clark's brain was very much stuck on the lunging. He also very much doubted that he had any of Lex's favourite songs in his CD collection. 

Clark was pretty much out of options other than just listening to what ever it was that Lex wanted to say. He'd always pictured Lex of more of a maudlin drunk anyway. 

"I blamed you for what happened between us for a long time," Lex said shakily. "I blamed myself for even longer. It took me years to realise that it was both of our faults." 

Clark closed his eyes. They'd never had this conversation before and it was either long overdue or far too late for them to be having it now. By the time they'd needed it they were already barely on speaking terms. Maybe it would have helped, but it wasn't a possibility that Clark often considered. It was easier to think of their enmity as something inevitable, as something fated, than to think that it was something that they could have avoided if they'd both acted differently, if they had treated with each other with a little more care. 

If Lex wanted to talk, then Clark was willing to listen. He doubted that it would change anything, but it would cost Clark nothing, except maybe a few more regrets, and he'd been living with them for so many years that he was almost immune to them. 

"There aren't many things that I regret in my life" - Lex's feet brushed against the back of Clark's head as he shuffled on the couch again - "but I do regret how I dealt with you." 

Clark nodded, trying to ignore the way that Lex's feet were now rubbing gently at the back of his neck. "I regret the way our friendship ended as well, Lex." 

"I regret never telling you that I wanted to fuck you." 

Clark snorted in surprise, looking over at Lex in askance. Lex had managed to move himself closer to Clark than he had any right to be while Clark's eyes were closed, his torso twisted so much that his face was almost touching Clark's. 

"Have I shocked you?" Lex asked, clearly trying to raise an eyebrow salaciously but failing utterly. Instead, he merely blinked slowly, but the grin that accompanied the blinking was wickedly pointed. 

Clark chuckled. "I kinda guessed that. You were hardly subtle." 

Lex pouted, obviously slightly put out that his announcement hadn't had a greater effect on Clark. "Then I wish that I'd done something about it at the time. I tried to be good, but if I'd known how things would turn out then I would have done it anyway. I can't imagine it could have ended up any worse than this." 

"Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?" Clark asked, turning away from Lex again. Lex's pout was incongruous, but still strangely attractive and Clark didn't want to be tempted into doing any lunging of his own. 

"I had a speech planned. A very convincing speech," Lex said, "but I think I've covered most of the salient points." 

"Why now? What made you think that I'd be interested in hearing any of this?" Clark asked, because he couldn't really believe that anyone could ever get drunk enough to think that he and Lex could reconcile, or that Lex could think that it was worth even trying. 

"We've never killed each other." Lex's fingers brushed Clark's cheek gently. "I know that I hold back when we fight and you must too. You could snap me like a twig without any effort, and yet you never have." 

"I hate to break it to you, Lex, but killing people goes against everything Superman stands for. It's not as if you're a special case," Clark said, moving into Lex's touch. 

He knew that it was quite possibly a grave mistake and that Lex was more than likely to read it as tacit encouragement, but it was hard to resist. After all, Lex wasn't the only one who hadn't acted on his attraction back when they were boys in Smallville. 

Either Lex wasn't listening or he wasn't convinced by Clark's argument, because his hand moved to cup the back of Clark's head. 

His aim was much better on the second attempt. 

* * *

Clark would have liked to blame kissing Lex back on the fact that he'd just opened his mouth to speak again and Lex took advantage of that. It was almost plausible, if not for the fact that he was still kissing Lex after he got over the initial shock of finding the other man's tongue in his mouth. 

Lex kissed sloppily and the angle was all wrong. His teeth kept knocking against Clark's and grazing his lips in a way that Clark was certain would probably be painful if he were anybody else. 

Yet, Clark couldn't seem to bring himself to stop. The faint taste of scotch on Lex's tongue and the soft noises he was making were addictive, and like most addictive things, Clark knew that it was probably unhealthy. Nevertheless, he wanted it and it felt good, despite Lex's slight problems with controlling his teeth. 

Between his duties as Superman and his work at the Daily Planet, Clark rarely found time to date, and his dates seldom went well when he did have them. All too often, he was late or had to run out halfway through the movie or meal to go and save the world. He had second dates even more rarely. 

At least with Lex, he had the dubious comfort that, however things turned out that night, Lex couldn't possibly want to kill him any more than he usually did. It was strangely liberating. 

Despite Clark's misgivings, it was Lex who broke the kiss. If Clark did make the small sound of protest that he feared he had, Lex made no sign that he heard it. 

Lex sat up, rubbing at the back of his neck. "This is very awkward. I think you should join me on the couch." 

Clark looked at the couch for a moment, considering. Granted, Lex's neck was probably close to snapping and Clark wasn't exactly comfortable either, but if he got back onto the couch, it would be an admission that he accepted what was happening. He might have accepted it, but Lex didn't need to know that. Clark didn't want to seem too eager. 

"Or I could join you down there," Lex said, and slid off the couch before Clark had chance to protest. 

He landed heavily across Clark's lap in a tangle of flailing arms and legs. He levered himself upright, one knee planting firmly between Clark's thighs in a way that would probably have curtailed the evening's entertainment prematurely if Clark had been human. 

Lex was grinning when his face finally drew level with Clark's again. It had been years since Clark had seen Lex smile and look as if he meant it, as if it was a response to something that honestly amused him or made him happy and not just an expression that he wore because he knew it was expected of him under certain circumstances. Clark couldn't help the grin that curled his own lips in response. 

Lex's grin faded a little and his eyes softened. He ran one finger along Clark's lower lip gently. 

"I've missed that smile," he said, his voice muted with wonder. 

Clark closed his eyes as the tip of Lex's finger bumped against his teeth. He knew better than to do this, really he did, but alcohol had rounded all of Lex's sharp edges and he was more approachable and touchable than he had been in years and Clark was tired of always having to be strong. 

Clark opened his mouth and drew Lex's finger inside, running his tongue slowly along its length. Lex let out a shuddering sigh, shuffling along Clark's legs until their bodies were almost flush. 

Lex's free hand dropped to Clark's chest and began fiddling with Clark's shirt buttons. It took Clark a moment to realise that Lex was probably trying to undo his shirt, but that fine motor control was clearly beyond him. When several minutes had elapsed and Lex hadn't even managed the first button, Clark snapped. 

He didn't care whether he looked too eager. Hell, he didn't even care if he looked desperate. Lex's erection was pressed insistently against Clark's stomach and the once familiar mingled scent of scotch and hideously expensive cologne was in Clark's nostrils, taking him back to a time when he wouldn't even have had to think about whether he should go through with this or not. 

Lex pulled his finger - albeit reluctantly - from Clark's mouth and they worked together on the buttons, their hands maybe lingering a little too long when they brushed against each other, which made the whole task last a lot longer than it should have done. 

When the shirt was finally undone, Lex pushed it off Clark's shoulders and sat back on his haunches, regarding Clark steadily with wide, speculative eyes. 

"What is it?" Clark asked, reaching for his shirt and balling it into his fist in readiness. 

Lex had the sort of expression in his eyes that he usually reserved for his more interesting lab specimens and Clark could only hope that this wasn't some sort of prelude to Lex trying to kidnap Clark for his experiments again. Granted, it was a novel approach, but Clark felt that it would ruin the mood a little. 

"You're fucking beautiful," Lex said in quiet reverence, extending one hand to rest with exquisite gentleness against Clark's collarbone. "I never imagined... Well, I did imagine. A lot. As I said, that costume you wear practically demands it, but the reality is so much better than I could have hoped." 

Clark couldn't help his short burst of laughter at Lex's words. In all the years he'd known Lex, he'd never heard the other man swear. Not even when they were locked in mortal combat and a little profanity was almost expected. It was strangely gratifying that one look at Clark's naked torso did more to break through Lex Luthor's normally unruffled self-possession than the innumerable times Superman had dangled him over the edge of buildings or dragged him out of helicopters mid-flight. If Clark had known, he would have tried harder to ensure that his costume became ripped during their fights. It might have made things easier. 

Lex looked slightly taken aback at Clark's laughter; leaning away from Clark, his hand dropping to rest on his lap. 

"Just a private joke," Clark said reassuringly, grabbing Lex's ass and pulling him close again, because Lex looked like he might bolt at any moment and Clark hadn't come this far to have Lex run out on him before things really got started. 

Lex smiled, slightly lopsided and completely unaffected, his hands splaying across Clark's chest again. He bent his head to Clark, mouthing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down Clark's neck and across his shoulders, tongue gliding slickly across Clark's skin. His hands ran restlessly up and down Clark's side - sometimes gentle, sometimes gripping so hard that Clark could hear Lex's knuckles groaning in protest - and he kept up an almost constant mumbled litany as his mouth moved over Clark, the words little more than muffled vibrations through Clark's chest. 

Words like, "didn't think this could ever happen," and "waited so long," and something that sounded a little like it might have been to do with shrimps, but that Clark charitably chalked up as "sorry." Even with his super-hearing strained to its limits, it was still difficult to decipher Lex's words, given that they were spoken tight against his skin and Lex's speech was still rather slurred. Lex might even have been thinking about shrimps, but Clark was inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

Clark slid his hands from Lex's ass to his waist, and let them rest there for a moment, before hesitantly moving them beneath the hem of Lex's shirt. Lex's skin was hot even to Clark's insensitive fingers and softer than he could have believed possible. Lex was much broader and heavily muscled than the man Clark had known back in Smallville, but Clark could still cover the breadth of his body with two open palms. It made him seem much more fragile than Clark knew him to be, and yet he still felt emboldened by the discovery. 

He brushed one hand across the front of Lex's pants and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath and a growled, "Clark." 

Then, Lex braced his hands against Clark's chest and pushed. The move caught Clark off-guard and he lost his balance, pulling Lex with him. The couch shot backwards as they fell, leaving them sprawled across the floor, the rag rug that Martha had made for Clark the previous Christmas twisted beneath them. 

Lex recovered more quickly than Clark, despite his dulled reflexes, and he propped himself up on his elbows, nipping his way down the length of Clark's body until he reached the waistband of Clark's jeans. He looked up at Clark questioningly from beneath half-closed eyelids, one hand hovering over Clark's fly, the other rubbing surreptitiously at his teeth, as he clearly hadn't learned anything from earlier in the evening about the relative hardness of invulnerable skin. 

Clark could no nothing more than nod his head vaguely, because it was impossible to say anything intelligible with Lex Luthor's hand near your fly and his mouth mere inches from your cock. 

Lex smiled again - he seemed to have rediscovered the knack for it - and went to work puzzling out the intricacies of Clark's zipper. He was taking far too long for Clark's liking and the gentle brushes with the back of his hand as he fumbled were making the wait all the more arduous. It seemed churlish to offer to help, though, and the way Lex's bottom lip was caught between his teeth as he gave the task his full attention was strangely attractive anyway. 

Clark showed his displeasure by rocking his hips, a particularly self-defeating move as it made Lex's job all the more difficult, but satisfying nonetheless. 

Lex's perseverance finally bore fruit, and he ripped open Clark's jeans with a small grunt of satisfaction. He was still for a moment, his breathing loud and ragged, staring down at Clark with an expression that suggested that he had discovered the formula for the Elixir of Life inside Clark's pants rather than the expected cock. 

However, it was only for a moment, then his hand was wrapping around Clark, and he was groaning almost as loudly as Clark was. 

Their eyes met as Clark surged up into Lex's grip, and Clark's blood ran cold. Lex looked beautiful - his skin was flushed, his lips slightly parted and his eyes were darker than Clark had ever seen them - but he was still undeniably Lex Luthor. Still the man who hated Clark more than anything in the world, the man who had last tried to kill him only a week before. 

Clark tried to concentrate on the sensation of Lex's hand moving on him, but it was too late. Like a dream that shattered on waking leaving nothing but the vaguest memory of what had been, he couldn't recapture the feeling of rightness. 

He'd been buoyed along not only by no small amount of lust, but by his own desire to take advantage of this bizarre situation and feel some sort of connection to the Lex he used to know. This Lex wasn't that Lex, however. Couldn't ever be that Lex. 

This Lex might be softened by alcohol and regrets, but in the morning he would be sober, and he would hate Clark for letting him do this. Clark had thought that things couldn't get any worse between them, but that had just been wishful thinking on his part, a good excuse. 

Lex had always lashed out hardest when he was hurt, and Clark knew that this would hurt him. 

It would hurt Clark too. Clark had never been able to teach himself to separate sex from love, and although he wasn't foolish enough to think that this meant that Lex loved him or could come to love him again, it would still mean something more than sex to Clark. Although he knew that this wouldn't be likely change anything, it would nonetheless be painful when nothing did change. When Lex next looked at him with nothing with hatred in his eyes, further away from Clark than ever. 

So Clark wrapped his arms around Lex's waist, ignoring Lex's sharp cry of protest, and lifted him up. He dumped Lex on the couch and staggered into the kitchen, away from Lex's angry questions, straightening up his clothes as he went. 

* * *

Clark poured himself a glass of orange juice with shaking hands and drank it slowly as he leant against the counter, listening to Lex's ranting quieten down and finally stop. He waited until it had been silent in the living room for several minutes, and his own heartbeat had slowed to something approaching its normal rate, before he judged it safe to re-enter. 

Lex was lying completely motionless, in exactly the same position that Clark had deposited him in, his arms completely covering his face again. He must have sensed Clark's presence, however, because he said, "Clark," in a plaintive tone of voice. 

"Lex," Clark ventured cautiously. 

He balled his hands into fists and pressed them into his thighs. He could resist whatever Lex was going to offer him, no matter how tempting it might be. He had to be on his guard. Lex had a way of twisting words around himself so skilfully that you could find yourself agreeing to anything he asked of you, no matter how hard you tried to refuse. 

Clark could be strong. 

"Clark," Lex repeated, lifting his arms from his head, "I think I'm going to be sick." 

Clark snorted, his hands unfurling at his sides. If this was part of a plot on Lex's part to get himself back into Clark's pants, it wasn't a very good one. Either that, or it was so labyrinthine in its complexity that Clark was unlikely to ever be able to begin to unravel it. Given the decidedly grey tint of Lex's skin, Clark was inclined to believe the former was the truth. 

"The bathroom's over there," Clark said, gesturing towards the bathroom door. 

Lex raised his head slightly and looked in the direction that Clark was pointing. He swallowed noisily. "I don't think I can make it." 

Clark sighed. He could carry Lex to the bathroom and leave him propped up against the toilet, but carrying Lex would bring Lex's hands into closer proximity to Clark's body than was probably sensible. Yes, Clark could be strong, but there were limits. 

Clark went back into the kitchen, and rifled through his cupboards until he found a receptacle, with what he deemed probably suitable dimensions. Admittedly, it was a large Tupperware container, which had contained a pie that his mom had sent home with him the week before. She was expecting it back the next time she saw him, but he was sure his mom would understand the sacrifice. In fact, he'd make sure that Lex bought her a new one. Perhaps several. 

Clark hurried back to the living room carrying the container, worried that he might already be too late. The couch might be third- or even fourth-hand and beyond ruining, but it was the principle of the thing. Besides, asking Lex to buy a new Tupperware container for Martha Kent was one thing, asking him to replace Clark's couch was an entirely different matter entirely. 

His worries were pointless anyway. Lex was asleep when he returned, snoring quietly with a cushion clutched tightly to his chest. Clark placed the container on the floor by the couch carefully so as not to wake the other man, and watched him sleep for a while, considering his options. 

Common sense dictated that Clark hand Lex back to Hope and Mercy. He was fairly sure that Lex wouldn't be at all pleased to wake up in Clark's apartment, and an unhappy Lex Luthor was a very dangerous beast indeed. 

A quick scan with his x-ray vision confirmed that the two women had stationed themselves either side of Clark's door, their faces twin masks of grim determination. Clark dreaded to think what his neighbours thought about his new guards. Half of them probably already suspected that he was some sort of serial killer, given his habit of coming home in the early hours of the morning covered in blood splatters and mud. This would do nothing to allay their fears. 

It wasn't just Clark's reluctance to let Hope and Mercy step foot inside his home that made him discard that idea. Lex looked peaceful; his face smooth and unlined in sleep, and Clark was loath to wake him. He knew Lex rarely slept well anymore and a few hours rest would probably do him a lot of good. 

A little voice at the back of Clark's mind kept trying to draw his attention to the fact that the only thing that rest and recuperation would do for Lex would be to improve his effectiveness in fighting Superman and that probably wasn't in Clark's best interests. Clark ignored the little voice and reluctantly turned in for the night, one ear tuned to the pace and depth of Lex's breathing all the while. 

Clark tossed and turned in his bed for almost an hour before finally giving in and returning to the living room with a spare quilt. As he tucked it tightly around Lex's body, he could have sworn that Lex smiled in his sleep, but it was gone so quickly that Clark persuaded himself that it was a trick of the light. 

* * *

Clark still couldn't sleep. He was hyper-aware of Lex's presence in the normally silent apartment, super-hearing tuned to the other man's movements to such an extent that every breath he took sounded like a hurricane to Clark's ears. 

Clark put his pillow over his head and tried to block Lex out. It didn't work. Even if several inches of duck feathers and cotton could even do anything to dampen his hearing, his mind stubbornly refused to stop thinking about Lex. 

Rationally, Clark knew that he'd done the right thing. As Lex seemed to have been struggling to string a coherent sentence together, he was probably completely incapable of understanding the ramifications of what he and Clark had almost done. 

That he knew that what he had done had been right didn't stop Clark's hand drifting below the waistband of his pants as he imagined how the evening might have progressed if he hadn't been saddled with such an inconveniently strict sense of morality. 

* * *

Jerking off hadn't helped. In fact, it had only served to leave Clark feeling unfulfilled and restless. It would be easy, too easy, to wake Lex up to finish what they had started. Clark was never likely to get such an opportunity again and it seemed ridiculous to throw it away just because Lex might, perhaps, come to regret it later. 

Lex had had sex with more people than Clark had spoken to in his entire life and Clark doubted that he had even liked all of them, never mind loved them. Fucking someone that he outright hated probably wasn't novelty either and it seemed fairly unlikely that Lex would lose much sleep over it. Clark would just be the latest in a long line of conquests, albeit one that Lex might question his own sanity over conquering. 

The only thing that stopped Clark every time that he half-rose from his bed with the intention of going back to the living room, was the memory of what Lex had said. It was more than likely that Lex's words had been nothing more than drunken rambling, saying what he thought Clark would want to hear in order to ease his passage into Clark's pants. 

Clark knew that he was an idiot for even thinking that there may have been some grain of truth in Lex's admissions that he still felt something for Clark, that he maybe regretted how things between them had ended up. 

But he couldn't help his own stupid fantasy that this could possibly be a turning point for them. Lex apparently knew all of Clark's secrets and Clark was under no illusions any more as to what sort of man Lex was, if there were anything between them - beyond a mutual desire to fuck each other - maybe it would be possible for them to work something out somehow. Clark knew that there was still good in Lex, despite everything that he'd done and despite how vehemently he denied it, and perhaps Clark could find that and bring it out if Lex would let him. 

Clark groaned, cursing himself for clinging on to his romantic notions that he could ever save Lex. One aborted blowjob was not the first step on the road to redemption, no matter how much Clark might wish that it were. 

He buried his head under his pillow again and screwed his eyes closed; desperately praying that he could finally fall asleep. He'd been right in his judgement earlier that evening; he was clearly delusional from overtiredness. 

* * *

A muffled noise from the living room stirred Clark from his light doze. It sounded very much like the groan of a person who'd just woken up and wished that they hadn't bothered. 

Clark flicked his vision to x-ray as he sat up, getting a detailed view of the apartment's pipe work before he forced his weary eyes to focus properly. 

Lex was scowling and rubbing at the back of his neck as he wrestled with the quilt that Clark had covered him with earlier that night. Once he had managed to kick his way free of the quilt's tenacious grasp, he stared at it for a moment with his brow furrowed in obvious puzzlement, as if it was the most intriguing thing that he had ever seen. 

Lex then took a couple of unsteady steps away from the couch and promptly stood in the Tupperware container. He swore quietly under his breath, prised his foot from the container, and then proceeded to subject it to the same intense scrutiny as he had the quilt. 

Clark had to stifle a chuckle at the completely dumfounded expression on Lex's face as his eyes flitted from quilt to container and then back to quilt again. Although Clark knew that Lex was aware that he shared his city with aliens, super-powered humans, and, occasionally, creatures from other dimensions, he looked a little shocked to discover that he also shared it with quilts and Tupperware. 

Lex shook his head and rubbed at his neck again, obviously giving up on trying to make sense of what he was seeing. He then stumbled across the darkened room, hands patting at the walls as he gingerly circled the perimeter, presumably on the search for a light switch. 

He walked into the lamp behind the coffee table on his second circuit and switched it on with a small grunt of triumph. He blinked slowly for a while before looking around slowly with the air of someone who was terrified of what further horrors he might discover. 

Clark saw Lex's lip curl a little as he looked at the scruffy couch that he'd slept on, his eyebrows raise slightly as he spotted the peeling wallpaper that was only partially hidden behind the TV, and finally his expression of absolute panic as he noticed the photograph of Clark's mom on top of the rickety little bookcase beside the door to the kitchen. 

Lex rubbed at his eyes frantically as if he hoped that he was hallucinating. When the photograph resolutely failed to disappear, Lex swore again and rushed for the apartment door. 

He paused with one hand on the doorknob and leant his head briefly against the wall as he sucked in several deep, but shaky, breaths. 

Then, obviously fortified, he ventured out into the apartment again. He poked around until he found the pad of paper and pen that Clark kept by the phone and settled down on the arm of the couch with them. 

At that point, Clark couldn't just watch any more. He supposed that the fact Lex was willing to leave a note before disappearing was more than he could reasonably expect, given the circumstances, but he was still pissed. Clark would be expected to accept a hastily scribbled apology, or whatever the hell it was Lex was going to write, and Lex would consider the matter closed. An unfortunate momentary lapse in judgment that he would demand that Clark forget, just as thoroughly as he no doubt intended to do 

However, Clark refused to forget and he refused to let Lex pretend that it had never happened. It had happened and it meant something to Clark even if it meant nothing to Lex. He wasn't going to let Lex weasel out of answering a few questions before he let him leave. 

Clark walked into the living room before the cowardly part of his mind that insisted that his life would be a lot easier if he just let Lex leave without a challenge managed to sway the other, braver parts of his mind against their decision. 

Lex's head snapped up as the bedroom door opened, the pad slipping from his lap. He scrambled to his feet, brandishing the pen at Clark as if it were a kryptonite-coated sword instead of several inches of cheap plastic. 

"Hope and Mercy are right outside," Lex said confidently, as if he knew it to be fact instead of what Clark knew to be hopeful speculation. "If you try anything, I won't hesitate to call them in here." 

Clark raised his hands in what he hoped was a calming gesture. "It's okay, Lex. I won't try anything. You can leave if you want, but I did want to talk to you first." 

Lex's eyes narrowed, but he did lower the pen. "What about?" 

Clark took a couple of steps towards Lex, but stopped when the pen started to make its ascent again. "There were a lot of things you said last night, a lot of things that you did, that surprised me, and I just thought that we should discuss them." 

"I'm afraid that I can't remember anything that I said last night." The muscle beneath Lex's left eye twitched. "I wasn't really feeling like myself and, if I said something that offended you, I can only offer my sincerest apologies." 

Clark snorted. Lex hadn't been bothered about offending Clark for years and if he had ever apologised for anything in that time - which Clark doubted - it certainly hadn't been sincere. 

"You didn't offend me. In fact, I was hoping that what you said was true." 

Lex smiled briefly, a sharp, false smile that didn't reach his eyes. It made Clark miss the smiles that Lex had given him earlier that evening even more, and gave him all the courage that he needed to press on when Lex said, "I honestly can't remember, Clark. You may have to refresh my memory." 

"You told me that you were attracted to me," Clark said, inching toward Lex again. "That you wanted me. That you were sorry." 

The last point was debatable, given the whole shrimp/sorry confusion, but Clark wanted it to be true badly enough that he felt that he had to include it. 

Lex's eyes widened and he shook his head as if in denial of Clark's words. 

Clark was almost close enough to touch Lex now, and he ached to do so, but he resisted the urge. Lex was right, after all, Hope and Mercy were waiting just outside the door and Clark didn't want to spook Lex in case he called out for them. 

"Are you telling me that you were lying? You certainly seemed to believe it when we were...." 

Lex turned away from Clark, shaking his head even more violently. "You know me better than to believe any of that, Clark. I was drunk and probably had no idea what I was saying or whom I was saying it to. It happens to the best of men." 

"What's that saying, Lex?" Clark asked, a little frustrated by Lex's disavowal of his own words and his refusal to look Clark in the eye as he did so. "In vino veritas? I think you might have even taught me that one." 

Lex's laughed briefly; a sound that was harsh and totally devoid of humour. "I didn't drink any wine, only scotch and some disgusting vodka that I brought back from my last business trip to Russia. I think that the only thing that lies in strong liquor is obviously the desire to make a complete fool of oneself." 

"You don't say things like that if there isn't at least some truth to them," Clark insisted, "no matter how drunk you are. I might never have been drunk myself, but I do know that." 

Lex's shoulders slumped as if in defeat. "Even if what I said was true, not that I'm saying that it is, it wouldn't make any difference. It would only serve to prove that even I can be pathetically sentimental at times, especially when I'm in my cups." Lex turned back towards Clark, his eyes shining maliciously. "Or, alternatively, that I do want to fuck you and I know exactly what to say to make you think that you want it too." 

Clark rolled his eyes. This entire argument was running exactly the way he would have expected it to. Lex was trying to goad him into losing his temper, so that they could fall back into their comfortable routine. They would hurl insults at each other, Hope and Mercy would come barrelling in and pin Clark to the floor, and then Lex would flounce out of Clark's life again until the next time that Superman needed to clean up one of Lex's messes, by which time they would be so angry at each other that it would be as if this whole cessation in hostilities never happened. 

"We could make it different, Lex, if we wanted it badly enough." 

"You could forget everything that's happened between us?" Lex sounded as if he was trying to be scornful, but Clark couldn't ignore the note of hope in his voice. It was barely even there, but it was encouraging nevertheless. 

"I don't think I could forget, but we could promise not to hold what's happened in the past too tightly. We could have a different future, Lex. A better future. I think you want that." Clark touched Lex's elbow tentatively and, when Lex didn't pull away, he dared to tighten his fingers around it. "I know I want that." 

Lex stared at Clark wordlessly for a moment, his expression incredulous. Finally, his eyes closed and he drew back from Clark's grip. 

"Regardless of what we may or may not want, this could never work. You don't approve of my work and I don't approve of everything that you represent as Superman. We may be able to pretend for a little while, but it would never last. I'd rather not have it at all than put myself through that. I've had years to get used to it and, believe me, distance makes you hating me a lot more bearable." 

"But you don't have to do the projects you've been doing at LexCorp, half of them were about trying to kill me anyway." Clark reached out for Lex's arm again, but Lex shook him off. "You could do so many good things, Lex, great things for the good of mankind. You're wasting your talent on all this supervillain stuff." 

"I should have known." Lex sneered as he pushed past Clark, walking quickly towards the door again. "You're willing to give me a chance as long as I change. Well, forgive me if I decline your offer, Clark, but it exhausted me trying to live up to your impossibly high standards the first time around. I don't think I can put myself through that again." 

Lex's hand was on the doorknob again and suddenly Clark was desperate. He couldn't let Lex leave without a fight. He couldn't go back to their endless game of cat and mouse and wishing that some sort of divine providence would intervene and make everything right again. Some sort of miracle that would set them back on the track that Lex had once seemed so convinced would be their rightful destiny. 

He had his chance, this was it, and it was probably his last. 

"I don't expect you to change overnight, Lex, but you must understand that I couldn't just stand aside and let you keep doing what you have been forever. You're better than that anyway." 

"Am I?" Lex asked quietly as he opened the door. Clark heard Hope and Mercy greet Lex and ask him whether he needed any assistance, to which Lex shook his head almost imperceptibly. "I've no idea what makes you think that Clark." 

"Because you could have been, but something got screwed up along the way. We could do things differently this time. Make the right choices." 

Lex bowed his head. The pale skin of his scalp was still creased from his night spent sleeping on the rough upholstery of the couch, and the sight made Clark feel oddly tender. He'd been wrong to think that Lex had been at his most human when he was drunk. This was Lex at his most human, all his doubts and frailties close to the surface again, as they hadn't been for so many years. 

"And if I asked you to stop being Superman would you do that? Would you change yourself as much as you're asking me to change?" 

Clark swallowed nervously. He didn't think he could do that and he should have known that Lex would ask it of him. But that wasn't the only way. Lex liked to deal in absolutes, but Clark had learned that things didn't always have to be that clean-cut. 

"We can compromise, Lex. We can talk about things, work them through, and we can come to an agreement that works for both of us. I know it would be difficult, but it's the one thing we've never tried. It might work, it might not, but it has to be better than what we've got at the moment." 

Lex's hands were shaking, but Clark couldn't even begin to guess what emotion was causing it. "We'd be dreadful for one another, Clark. I can't see us ever making it work. I think it's probably best if we just cut our losses and run before either of us says something that we'd regret." 

"Fine," Clark said, all the fight leaving him suddenly, faced with Lex's relentless pessimism and the cold, unforgiving line of his back. "You're right. We're obviously doomed to failure and it's pointless to even try. If you really don't want to even attempt this then go. If you leave right now, I'll understand, and I'll never mention it again. Everything goes back to how it used to be, and last night never happened." 

Lex's fingers tightened on the doorframe and his whole body went taut. Clark was painfully aware of every heavy beat of his own heart in the silence that descended between them following his words. 

Lex slammed the door. 

Clark was flat on his back, Lex straddling him and pinning him down to his bed, before the door had even stopped reverberating in its frame. 


End file.
